


The Zombie Nightmare

by meglorraine



Series: No, Really We're Just Living Together [2]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombies, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-18
Updated: 2014-07-18
Packaged: 2018-02-09 10:15:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1979001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meglorraine/pseuds/meglorraine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zombies have over run London. John and Sherlock have two choices, stay in 221B Baker Street or try to escape London.<br/>Rated M for zombies and foul words.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Zombie Nightmare

**Author's Note:**

> We do not own any characters seen in the Sir Arthur Conan Doyle works or the Steven Moffat works (BBC).  
> This is a FemmeJohn and FemmeLock story.

“Fuck zombies. Fucking fuck.” Sherlock spat as she paced the flat.

“Would you like your gun now?” John asked from her chair as she watched Sherlock pace.

“Yes, Johnny. I. Want. My. Gun.” With each word she took a step towards John.

“Very well.” John said handing over Sherlock's gun. “But only because there are zombies. I will be on the roof if you need me.”

“NO JOHN, THAT'S NOT FUNNY.” Sherlock yelled at her.

“I have a sniper rifle Sherlock. Calm down.” John said standing up and grabbing the rifle that was leaning against the chair.

“That … oh. Still not funny Johnny.” Sherlock pouted as she checked her gun.

“I'll see you in a while.” John turned towards the stairs to the roof, “Have to keep the perimeter secured until Mycroft's 'rescue' arrives.”

“Such faith, John.” Sherlock paused, “Do not die, Johnny.” She focused on the gun in her hands, “Five minutes, check in. Every five minutes. You get thirty seconds grace before I run up there.”

“You too, Sherlock. Don't you die on me.” John put an earpiece in her ear and handed the other to Sherlock, a christmas gift from Mycroft. Sherlock nodded as John left. She walked over to the barricaded window to peer through.

Below was a sizable crowd of the infected, wandering aimlessly. The flat was soundproofed (a relic of Sherlock's propensity to shoot the wall) and so the infected seemed oblivious to the two in the flat. Sherlock looked at the poor souls and saw familiar faces in the crowd. She had to look away when Mrs. Hudson's weathered face snapped around, eyes blank with hunger.

 

John made her way to the roof and found a nice place to set up her rifle on the ledge of the roof. She looked down at the empty faces below and spotted Mrs. Hudson.

“Sherlock. Mrs. Hudson.” John said feeling her heart shatter.

“I know.” Sherlock said with a nod, “Johnny, forgive me. I didn't want you to know.” She sounded pained. “I was hoping she'd be gone before you checked the perimeter.” She scowled out the window, “I'm sorry, Johnny.” Sherlock said as she rested her head against the barricade.

John sighed and wiped the tears from her eyes, “I'm sorry, Sherlock. But I have to.” She aimed the rifle at Mrs. Hudson.

“I know. Just-” Sherlock froze. “Johnny, wait.”

John paused with her finger on the trigger. “Sherlock.”

“No, it's not that. Use the scope, look two blocks down. That's not an infected.”

John looked through the scope, two blocks down. “Who is it?”

“I – I don't know. He looks like one, but he's not moving quite right. No infected walks like that.” Sherlock turned away from the window, “ _Johnny._ That infected. They're not attacking him.”

“He's either genius or crazy. And we may have a way out of here and a chance to get to a better location for Mycroft.” John said but paused, “Sherlock. We still have to. Mrs. Hudson. I can't just leave her like that.”

“I know. Johhny, I – just …” Sherlock shakes her head, “Johnny. Do it quickly.” she said turning away from the window and taking out her earbud. “You were a good woman. I am sorry.” She said before putting the earbud back in and clenching her teeth, bracing herself for what was to come.

Up on the roof, John aims the rifle and whispers a soft, “I'm really sorry.” before pulling the trigger before she has a chance to convince herself not to. The shot echoes far louder than any other shot she's ever fired.

The infected all twisted as one towards the noise, and Sherlock whipped around, horrified. “Johnny! The _silencer_!”

“Shit! Is the door still barred?” John asked over the earbud. She had forgotten to check if the silencer was on the rifle. Now every infected withing hearing distance was headed toward 221 Baker Street. All because of Johns mistake.

“Of course it's still barred! Johnny, get down here, they're starting to move-”

“Sherlock!” John grabs the silencer from the small table they had placed up there for holding ammunition. John fires off a few more shots, taking out the infected closest to the house before running back down to Sherlock.

Sherlock grabs John, “Listen to me, Johnny. We have two options. We can hurry and take to the roofs, or we can try to make a stand here. The nearest mob is too far away, we only have these to deal with, but there have to be thirty or so down there.” Sherlock cupped Johns face, “I will stand with you either way.”

“Do we have enough ammunition to make the stand?” John asked in full military mode.

“If we do not miss a shot. A single one, Johnny, and we might die. I trust your skills, but not mine.” Sherlock sighed as she glanced at what little weapons they had in the living room. “We don't have any blades. All I have is my harpoon, so I can take one, maybe two. Is there anything else? Anything we can use as a bludgeon?” she asked slightly hopeful.

“Your books.” John said as a small joke, “With those odds I think we better take to the roofs. Pack only what is necessary.” John said before stepping away from Sherlock to pack.

“Yes.” Sherlock said with a sigh, packing a bag quickly. Below, the sound of wood straining began to grow louder. “If we do this right, if we take this slowly, we could get to Mycroft before he gets to us.” Sherlock sounded hopeful.

John packed a backpack with as much ammo and food as possible, no personal items. “Alright. Stay close to me.” She said before heading up to the roof. She looked to the direction Mycroft said the rescue would come from, “We'll start by heading that way.” She pointed to the clear path along the luckily level rooftops. Below, there was a sound of splintering wood, the infected had gotten past the first door.

“Johnny, take my hand.” Sherlock said holding out her hand, “On my count, we sprint to the edge, leap across. I have a plan. And – Johnny?” John was piling the extra 'patio furniture' in front of the door.

“I'm with you Sherlock.” She said taking Sherlocks hand.

“Always, my dear Watson.” Sherlock said as she gripped Johns hand tightly, “On my count. No dramatics. One, two, three!” They dash toward the ledge, leaping across the three or so feet, wobbling a bit on the landing. Behind them, a pounding started on the door to the roof. “This way, Johnny.” She squeezed Johns hand. They ran across the roof tops. John let Sherlock take the lead. Sherlock knows the most about Mycroft and where the rescue would be coming from. The noises from the infected drifted far behind them. The zombies drifted far behind them. The infected had to stop at the ledge of 221B or fall to the street. Sherlock tugged John to a stop at the end of the block.

“We can head onto the road now, smear some blood on us, act the part.” She turned to survey the street below, “We should-”

“What is it? What's wrong Sherlock?” John asked trying to keep her panic down.

“Do you know him, Johnny? Look below us. It's the man from before.” Sherlock said staring down into the street.

“It is. Should we see if he can help us look like a zombie?” John asked, thinking out loud.

“I don't know.” She leaned over the edge, the man paused and looked up at John and Sherlock. He waved and grinned, causing Sherlock to sigh and roll her eyes, “I should have known.”

“What?”

“Doesn't Mycroft always send her?” Sherlock said, “We'll be there in a moment.” She called down quietly.

“Let's hurry before they get over here.” John said turning to find a door to get down from the roof, not expecting to see an infected right behind her. The infected grabbed Sherlock and started to drag her away. John pulled out a hand gun with a silencer and shot the infected in the shoulder. The force of the bullet made the infected stumble backwards and let go of Sherlock. As Sherlock stumbled away from the infected, it lunged forward for Sherlock. John reacted before thinking, and ran at the infected. She hits it like a linebacker and they stumble across the roof. The infected took hold of John as they teetered on the edge of the roof. John got one last look at Sherlocks eyes before they fall.

 

I wake up with a shout in a cold sweat and panting. I look around my spartan style room and tries to find anything that could reassure me that it was just a dream.

Below my room, a sharp-sounding not cuts into Sherlock's violin playing, interrupting a violent rendition of a Mozart piece. After a moment of silence, the violin starts up again, playing the soft strains of Debussy. It is 3:42 in the morning.

Upon hearing the violin I head down to sit with Sherlock, not wanting to be alone. I don't want to go back to sleep after that nightmare. I need to be near another person to keep myself from remembering the fear from the dream.

Down in the sitting room, Sherlock plays a moment longer, then sets the violin aside, “... I understand the polite thing is to ask if you want to talk about it. But I think you would rather I didn't.”

“You are correct. As always, Sherlock.” I say as I try to curl up on the couch. Sherlock paused, then shifted over, making room for me. After a moment, she began to play again, the music ghostly soft. I listen to Sherlock play and begin to settle down. Soon I'm drifting off to sleep. Peacefully this time.

 

Sherlock plays until she is certain Johnny is asleep, then moves carefully. She retrieves a blanket from her own room and places I carefully upon John's shoulders. She turns off the lights, and plays blindly into the night, keeping John company in her dreams.

 

**Author's Note:**

> For more information  
> http://femmejohn.tumblr.com  
> http://femmelock.tumblr.com


End file.
